"Well, little fellow, I guess this is our last night together," I tell him, though I know he doesn't understand me. This tiny infant, who unknowingly holds so much power, who has so much riding on him. The first born into an age of turmoil, and the only one who can stop it.
Luke Skywalker looks up at me and simply stares. I am amazed at this baby, though I must admit I'm not one who has much experience with children. I merely know this; he is the only hope left to save us all. You couldn't tell by looking at him. He will grow up as a simple moisture farmer until the Force wills. Whether that day comes quickly or is far down the road, I cannot tell. Yet I know that one day, he will have to face him. He will have to face the man that was his father, the man who is now Lord Vader.
I pick him up and study his features. The twin sun's few remaining rays brush against his face, and his eyes squint to shut them out. He is quiet and timid, and force knows where he gets that from. His blond hair and blue eyes are clearly Anakin's, and his smile is his mother's. He possess a grip unusual for any other child of his age, yet not unusual for the son of the once most powerful Jedi in the galaxy. The force is strong with him already.
It was strong with Anakin as well, yet it wasn't enough to save him from the Sith's evil grasp. My teaching wasn't enough to save him. Will I be able to save this boy from the Dark Side? I have failed once, and in that failure I have destroyed a galaxy. This is my only way to correct it. I shouldn't have taken Anakin on as my apprentice; I can see that now. The Council was right; he was too old. Yet I was young, foolish, and thought I could teach his as well as Master Yoda, and possibly even as well my master. I was wrong, and I am paying for that mistake. Qui-Gon, who had so much faith that he was the Chosen One, that this humble slave boy would save us from the Sith. He was supposed to defeat them, not join them! Why couldn't I prevent him from what he did? Why wasn't I strong enough?
Luke begins to whimper, and I begin to walk throughout the ship with him. He looks up at the controls, studying everything with was appears to be interest. His tiny fingers reach out to touch the controls, as if in his infancy he already knows how to fly a ship. Though, judging from his lineage, it's altogether possible. I don't doubt that he will live true to his name, and become a pilot almost as good as his father was, and most likely just as reckless as well.
The memories of my fallen brother come on strong again, and I finally succumb to them, letting them wash over me like the waters of Naboo's lakes. I sit back down in the captain's chair, staring at the setting of the Binary Suns. In a way it represents the rise and fall of the man who was Anakin Skywalker.
When I first met him, I passed him off as another pathetic life form my master had decided to tote along for the ride. I couldn't understand his connection with these things. Yet Anakin's midiclorian rate was off the charts, higher than Master Yoda's even. That had never happened in the history of the Jedi. It made this, well, slave boy, the most powerful being in the galaxy. He could be the one that was to save us from the Sith. But unknowingly, my master had just taken the first step in destroying everything we had ever fought for.
When Qui-Gon died, I promised to take him on as my padawan. I didn't think I was ready, but I had sworn to him I would. I made it my mission to be as good a master as Qui-Gon had been to me. If this boy was indeed the child of prophecy, then it only intensified the need for his training to be flawless. So I held him to the strictness of standards, reminding him every step along the way of the fate he was destined to fulfill, watching him grow each day more powerful.
I also remember what I mistook for a childish crush, his love for Padme. Surely he realized that if he was Jedi, he couldn't be with her. I lectured him on it over and over, and I might as well have been talking to a durasteel wall. At the time though, it didn't seem to be of much consequence. It' sadly ironic, how the thing that I simply underestimated brought the galaxy to its knees.
Luke begins to cry softly, and I begin to gently rock him in my arms. He sighs contentedly, and shuts his eyes. So much innocence, I can't help but envy him. He has no knowledge of the problems of the galaxy, of its injustices, or of the saddest story that has ever been told and how it binds he and I together. For now he is merely happy in my arms, his breathing coming in steady paces, his happy nature reminding me of Padme.
He will never know his mother, and for that I hate Darth Vader all the more. A Jedi should not know these things, but then again, Yoda and I are all that remain of the Order. No one to tell of the great deeds, of the countless that died trying to save the Republic. The Empire will rewrite history, saying that we were the betrayers, the ones who should be hated, the cause of the war, and there will be no one to proclaim the great works of Senator Amidala as well.
Padme didn't believe in the war, just as I didn't. Yet we were both drawn into it, regardless of our personal outlook. She was a kind soul, strong and determined, never failing to see the good in people. My friendship with her never lead me to suspect what she was hiding. That she and my best friend, my padawan, were lying to my face, keeping their marriage a secret from all. I don't hold it against her though. Most in my situation would probably would, yet I know she did what she thought was right. She loved Anakin for who he was, and she tried to save him. I only wish she had succeeded.
Her memory in my mind won't and will never been of the broken spirit that she was in her last moments. I wish I could forget that, go back and erase the haunting memory from my mind. No, she won't be that way in my mind's eye. She will forever be of the Queen who saved a planet, the fighter on Geonosis, the Senator who stood up for her beliefs against all odds and persecution, and of the woman who was my friend.
Her last words were of him, how there was still good in him. I don't believe her, though. I wish I could, but I won't allow myself to. How could something that killed Younglings, betrayed the Jedi, and killed his wife, still posses good? Nothing seems to harbor any essence of light now, for the brightest light was snuffed out before her time. She and Anakin were supposed to be here, holding this child and his sister, not I! He slaughtered not only those in the Temple, but he destroyed his own future as well. No, good can't be held in such a body as is his now.
Luke coos in my arms, and I bring myself back to the present. It's a shame that this is planet that he will call home, forsaken of almost everything except sand. He could have been trained in the Jedi temple, raised to be a defender of the Republic in a time of peace. This isn't the will of the Force however, and though I don't understand it now, I have faith that one day I will. I will be here with him till then, protecting him until the time is right. When the time comes when he will take up his father's lightsaber and set the galaxy to right again.
His future will not be an easy one. Upon his shoulders will be the restoration of the Order, the training of a new line of Jedi, and the defense of a new Republic. Already a Rebel Alliance has begun to form; their goal: to resurrect the Republic and democracy. Without a doubt his sister will be crucial to this as well.
Will I live to see the day? Only the Force knows. For now though, I am here, and I will protect him from whatever may happen. I will become the guardian of the fate of the Galaxy again, yet this time, I will not fail. But for now, I sit and hold the survival of hope in my arms, and enjoy what very well may be my last quiet moment with Luke Skywalker, son of the Hero With No Fear.